


Formative

by disjointed_scribblings



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Childhood Memories, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, canadian hockey players all read the screech owls books as kids right?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 11:59:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7891261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disjointed_scribblings/pseuds/disjointed_scribblings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack lends Bitty his favourite book series from childhood. Bitty's heart may not recover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Formative

**Author's Note:**

> Mentioned the Screech Owls books to some friends. Discovered no one outside of Canada had read them in the 90s. aeternamente, prettyfaroutman, and clavisa suggested that they're definitely books Jack would have read as a kid and helped develop parts of this fic. If YOU remember reading those books, please please please squee with me!

It wasn’t fair that Jack was so good with kids, when he barely had a word to say to people his own age. 

It wasn’t fair that watching Jack smile indulgently at the kids surrounding him made Bitty’s heart feel like it had grown three sizes. 

Bitty scowled at the thought, and then smoothed out his expression immediately for fear of scaring the kids away.So far they seemed to like him.If only because he smelled like pie. 

How pathetic was he?Having uncontrollable mushy feelings for someone who was not only completely unattainable, but was so reserved and held himself so much apart from the rest of them that maybe he was completely unknowable, too.And Bitty yearned to know him! 

Bitty poured his heart and soul into his game, into everything he baked, into the care he lavished on his teammates.Jack, now — Jack held himself at a remove from the rest of the team, except possibly Shitty.But Bitty thought it was more likely that Shits had forced the issue, had decided Jack was lonely and latched on.Part of Bitty wished he was brave enough to do the same.Part of him quaked at the likelihood of rejection.So he would just have to content himself with the little bits and pieces of himself that Jack parcelled out sparingly in rare moments of honesty or vulnerability. 

But a community outreach event was not the place to dwell on the unrequited pining situation.Bitty pasted a smile on his face and turned to coo over the oh-my-lord-bless-their-souls adorable children wanting his autograph. 

 

 

 

 

 

By the time they got back on the bus Bitty was exhausted.If putting on a front was this tiring, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to last through the season.He really, really needed to stop mooning over Jack Zimmerman. 

But not yet.Jack had just seated himself across the aisle from Bitty.His eyes still held a bit of the warmth they’d had when talking to the children.Frustration snapped at the edges of Bitty’s angst.How come Jack never looked that warm with him — with any of them?Why was he so aloof with the people who cared about him? 

“ — no idea what kids are even reading these days,” Jack was saying to Shitty.“I mean none of them had ever heard of the [Screech Owls books](http://www.screechowls.com/books/index.html).” 

“What are the Screech Owls books?” Bitty asked impulsively, and Jack turned to look at him. 

He’d let the frustration get the better of him.He shouldn’t have blurted it out.Normally he liked to take a moment to prepare for the amazing and agonizing experience of looking straight into Jack Zimmerman’s beautiful, cold eyes.It was a contradiction that had taken up more of Bitty’s mental energy than he would have liked over the last few months.He wanted, oh so badly, wanted to know Jack noticed him, to have Jack look at him — and at the same time, meeting Jack’s dispassionate gaze made him feel awkward and exposed. 

But Jack’s eyes weren’t as remote as they normally were away from the ice.And on his other side, Shitty was saying, “Yeah bro, I’ve never heard of them either.” 

“What?”Jack looked from one to the other in consternation.“Bittle I understand.But you grew up in a hockey-playing area, and you never read the Screech Owls books?” 

“The what?” asked Holster from behind Bitty, sticking his head into the aisle.“Come on, Jack.Are you making this up so we stop chirping you for not knowing that One Direction song?” 

“The Screech Owls!”Ransom shoved Holster out of the way to extend his hand to Jack’s for a high-five.“Man, that takes me back!I fucking loved those books as a kid.The grocery store gave them out free if you rented a kid’s movie, I had all of them.” 

Jack looked from Bitty to Shitty again, vindicated.“See?” 

“Oh, another _Canadian_ thing,” said Holster, rolling his eyes.“Well, are you going to tell us what these glorious books of your childhood are about?” 

Jack paused, apparently flummoxed, but Ransom stepped into the breach.“You know, the Screech Owls are like a peewee hockey team from a small town, going on the road all the time to play in tournaments, and everywhere they go they run into a new mystery.” 

“So, like Nancy Drew meets Mighty Ducks?” asked Bitty. 

“It’s more than that,” said Jack, but he didn’t seem inclined to elaborate. 

“Screech Owls!That really does take me right back, bro.”Ransom sighed happily.“Hey, Jack — who was your favourite character?” 

“Travis,” Jack replied instantly.“He’s the main character, he’s supposed to be your favourite.” 

“Of course.Doesn’t hurt that he’s the captain.” 

Jack raised his eyebrows. 

The bus had started to move, and the conversation would soon drift away from a set of children’s books only two people on the team had read.But this was the most animated Bitty had seen Jack in a while. 

“Sounds interesting,” Bitty said.“I never even knew there were books about hockey when I was a kid.” 

Jack turned and looked straight at him.“Are you actually interested in reading them, Bittle?” 

Bitty shrugged.“Sure.Like I said, Nancy Drew meets Mighty Ducks — sounds intriguing!”Not to mention that he was embarrassingly eager for any opportunity to learn more about Jack. 

Jack turned to Shitty and started talking about something else, and pretty soon Bitty had forgotten the entire exchange. 

 

 

 

 

 

It seemed that Jack had not forgotten the entire exchange.A few weeks later, Bitty found a cardboard box at his bedroom door with a note in Jack’s familiar handwriting taped to the top. 

_Bittle —_

_After our conversation a few weeks ago I had some childhood nostalgia and got my parents to ship some of my old books down to me.If you really were serious about wanting to read them, they’re in this box.Please return to me when finished._

_J_

“Oh, my.” 

Bitty hustled the box into his room and closed the door before sitting down to stare at it, lovestruck. 

“He _didn’t_ have them shipped because you said you wanted to read them,” Bitty reminded himself, staring hard at his reflection in the mirror.“He felt nostalgic so he had them shipped for himself.He’s just lending them to you because you seemed interested.He probably feels sorry for you, growing up in Georgia where no one ever talked about hockey.That’s all this is.” 

But it was hard not to feel like Jack had shared something special with him as he opened the box and took out the twenty slim volumes that had meant so much to Jack as a child.They were clearly well-loved — dog-eared, cracked spines, worn covers, a couple even looked like they were falling apart.Bitty’s heart beat faster and faster as he ran his fingers over the books a much younger Jack had held and read and loved — and that current Jack was willingly letting him see. 

Shaking his head to refocus himself — just a favour between teammates, don’t read too much into it — Bitty reached for the first book. _The Mystery at Lake Placid_.He took a moment to read the back cover, then flipped the book over and opened it —

and stopped and stared. 

On the inside of the front cover, in the childish scrawl of someone who has learned cursive writing but isn’t comfortable with it yet, was the inscription: 

_Propperty of Jack L. Zimmermann_

Bitty’s heart exploded. 

 

 

 

 

 

He read them all. 

Bitty had known he would read them all the moment he’d opened the box.He’d felt _compelled_ to read them all from he moment he’d seen Young Jack’s handwriting. 

He didn’t rush.He read them slowly enough to absorb the details, to think about how a younger Jack would have reacted.Sometimes he could tell by the bent corners, by a stain of what looked like raspberry jam on the edge of a page, which parts had captivated Jack.Sometimes he made his own inferences. 

And oh — it was all starting to fit together.  The coach, who delivered lessons both on the ice and in life, who instilled the love of history in his team.  The cheerful and supportive equipment manager who was always there for the young players, no matter what.  The friendships between the teammates, the closeness, the feeling of _love_.  Oh, Bitty could very well see how these books had been formative for Jack. 

Jack had told Ransom that his favourite character was Travis.Ransom had thought it was because Travis was the main character and the captain of the team and obviously didn’t credit Jack with enough originality to look beyond that.But to Bitty it made perfect sense.Travis, with the reputation of his great-uncle the Hall of Fame-er to live up to.Travis, who as captain took responsibility for the whole team and let it rest on his shoulders.Travis, whose best friend Nish was wild and ridiculous and drew Travis out of spending too much time in his own head. 

(Bitty noticed that Travis didn’t think there was anything wrong with having crushes on fellow hockey players; although in Travis’s case they were all female hockey players.Well, it didn’t matter anyway.Bitty wished he hadn’t even thought about it.) 

Lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, with the final book clasped to his chest just above his heart, Bitty realized that whether the knew it or not, Jack _had_ given him a little piece of himself. 

 

 

 

 

 

Bitty delayed a few days, wanting to keep this physical, tangible expression of part of Jack’s childhood to himself.But eventually it would start to get weird.Maybe Jack would think he was putting off reading the books.Jack would get embarrassed — he’d been awkward enough when he discovered that no one except Ransom knew these books to begin with.Plus, Bitty reminded himself, Jack had had the books shipped down for himself, not for Bitty.He had said so in the note that Bitty had quietly pressed into the back of his desk drawer along with reminders to eat more protein and not miss practice. 

Jack had not been trying to share a piece of his soul with Bitty.That part, Bitty reminded himself, had been entirely his own doing. 

So Bitty finally packed the books back into the box and hefted it over to Jack’s room.He had kind of hoped that Jack wouldn’t be there and he could slip quietly away.(Of course, he had also kind of hoped that Jack would be there, and maybe Jack would smile at him in thanks.) 

“Bittle.”Jack was sitting at his desk, but he looked up when Bitty knocked on the doorframe. 

“Hi, Jack!I brought your books back.” 

Jack watched Bitty silently as he dumped the box at the end of the bed and turned to leave.Bitty felt a bit silly, if he was honest with himself.Part of him felt like everything had changed, that he understood Jack better now, that maybe they had a bit more common ground — but of course, Jack wouldn’t feel any of those things, and for him nothing would change. 

“You read them?” Jack asked, just as Bitty reached the doorway. 

Bitty swivelled around with the speed of a former figure skater.“I did, all of them.Thank you for lending them to me.” 

Jack only shrugged off the thanks.“And… did you like them?” 

It took Bitty a moment to realize that Jack was staring at him intently, too intently.Like his answer mattered.Like Jack really, really wanted him to have enjoyed these books. 

His heart started to swell. 

“I loved them!”(This was, incidentally, true even beyond the fact that they were a little piece of Jack’s childhood.)“It was so great to read about a hockey team that felt like a team.All these weird kids and these talented kids all playing together and… and being bros.It reminds me of our team a bit, you know?” 

And Jack — Jack _smiled_.“Glad you liked them.” 

Bitty melted. 

He wasn’t sure how he managed to get back to his room without collapsing — or literally melting into the cracks of the floorboards — but as he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, Bitty wondered if maybe Jack had had the books shipped not because of nostalgia, but in order for Bitty to read them.So he could share something that was important to him.In his own allergic-to-talking-about-feelings way. 

“Oh my,” Bitty whispered to himself.And his heart grew three sizes. 


End file.
